


Drunken Sailor

by Tapeworrm



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asphyxiation, Choking, Clothed Sex, Clown sex lmao, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, a very scottish mcdonald, and nobody knows that these two actually hook up regularly, in which stephen takes alexander to his room drunk, lots of silliness, mcdonald is a tart, mentions of a possible threesome, mentions of goodsir at the carnivale, pet names and fawning, so you can guess where this goes, stanley is a service top??, where the carnivale wasnt a disaster, who enjoys choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 09:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30002655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tapeworrm/pseuds/Tapeworrm
Summary: An esurient smile spread over that handsomely drunken face.Stanley knew that look all too well. He felt his stomach turn over hotly. He could have bet money that things would come to this. Things often ended this way whenever they were both alone in a room together.Or: Mcdonald knows exactly how to make Stanley tick...and climb on top of him.
Relationships: Alexander McDonald/Stephen S. Stanley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	Drunken Sailor

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a world where nothing bad happened at the Carnivale and instead Dr. Stanley just had some human contact to sort him out. When Cpt. Crozier said 'Hold him!'...he meant it :(
> 
> Anyway I just wanted to write these two in a semi-established relationship being silly.

“Waayyy-heey and _UP_ she rises! Wayyy-Heeyy and _UP_ she rises, _WAAAY-HEYY AND UP-_ ”

“Be quiet you awful man!”

“Oh, Doctor sing along!”

“Stop leaning on me I can’t walk.”

“ _WHAT SHALL WE DO WI A DRUNKEN SAILOR???”_

“I’ll tell you exactly what in a minute if you don’t _cease this!_ ”

“Oh? Excite me.”

“You fool.”

“Says the clown!”

“You’re a clown too you imbecile!”

“O Aye yeah…”

“Now please tell me where I’m supposed to be going, this is your ship, Alexander!”

“Aye if it wa MY ship d’ya think I would be this tanked??”

“Probably. Show me where your room is.”

“Oh _Doctor!_ How _Scandalous!”_

“Quiet! Stop leaning on me for Christ’s sake!”

“ _What shall we do wi a DRUNKEN Sailor?? Sm’thing, sm’thing wi a RUSTY RAZOR!_ Agh I cannae ‘member the words Stephen, can you???”

“I wish we had never met.”

“ _WAAYY-HEYY AND UP-_ Oh, aye it’s just to the right here!!”

“The only verse I know is ‘ _Gag him round the mouth because he won’t stop singing’_ that was a _catchy one_.”

“You flirt.”

“We’ve arrived. Get in and shut up.”

“Now, that’s no very nice is it _Doctor_??”

“I’m not very nice.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“Just get inside.”

“Okay, okay, Mr. Clown!” McDonald stumbled into his own room, laughing deliriously. To say he was merely drunk was a misdiagnosis of proportions that would make Dr. Stanley wince.

He closely followed the scot, stalking in after him. Just in time to hold out his arms to catch the other man briefly as he tripped with the weight of his laughter,

“Lay down you drunken fool.”

“Oh don worry, I’m gonnae.”

McDonald felt hot and heavy on Stanley’s chest briefly before scrambled to push himself off him, using Stanley as a prop. Most of his weight went from his heels to the balls of his feet with a sloppy agility which lurched him forward in a top-heavy manner towards his berth in the dark. He still laughed under his breath, a mischievous but overtly drunken sound.

Stanley knew he had reached his berth when he heard the unmistakeable noise of a man’s knees thwacking into the wood, and the shadow of McDonald doubled over with his hands on his sheets procuring a colourful string of very Scottish profanity.

He nearly could have smiled, but he didn’t. Instead, he endeavoured to find and to turn up the oil lamp on McDonald’s side table, bathing them in an orange glow.

McDonald unceremoniously flopped down onto his berth, still laughing, no doubt encouraged from the giddy knock to his knees and general lack of coordination as he fell onto his bed like a puppet with its strings cut.

“You are a ridiculous man.”

“Who, me???” he slurred gruffly, twisting his head flat to one side where he was planted face-first with his posterior in the air.

He sported a childish look of forged innocence on his flushed, drunk face. It quickly dissolved into a wolfish smile in Dr. Stanley’s direction.

“Yes, you. For Christ’s sake, lay down properly.”

“I’m very comfortable here thank’y verry muchh” he cackled then, at nothing Stanley could discern, and swayed his body as though to demonstrate this fact.

His laugh drifted seamlessly into undignifiedly slurring some undetectable Scottish folk song from which Stanley could only discern a few vague lyrics about whiskey and highlands.

Most of its elegance, he was sure, was butchered by this drunken man with his arse in the air.

Stanley let out a blustery sigh, admiring the view a little, nevertheless. He wasn’t all that sober either and he felt himself leaning against the wall momentarily. Racking his brain about how he even ending up in this situation: two drunk doctors, both dressed as clowns, and in Alexander’s poxy little room on _Terror_.

He thought that if somebody was to happen upon them, who had absolutely no context of the past months in this microcosm of their daily life on the ice, then perhaps it would be a story with too many threads, too convoluted to explain without looking insane. More insane.

Fighting the urge to close his eyes, face feeling hot and drowsy, he pushed off the wall on unstable legs and shuffled over to where McDonald lay face down. His eyes had fallen closed and the idiot was drooling a little, mumbling his song. Nearly dead to the world already. His previously smoothed hair all over his face and his clown greasepaint barely a smudge. The red nose survived strongest of all. Stanley admittedly had no idea where his hat and wig had gotten to. He knew he had discarded his own as soon as they breached the ship, and it was tucked neatly into his greatcoat pocket.

Laid there murmuring, McDonald instantly reminded Stanley of a tired-out toddler, still desperately trying to hold onto his wakefulness in case he missed something. He looked strikingly young and carefree and peaceful and Stanley just stared at him for a moment, a voyeur. If his heart clenched with something warm, he ignored it on purpose.

He cleared his throat. He was too drunk for this.

“Come now, I swore to the Lieutenants I would get you back safely and, in any way, fix you up.” Doctorly and sternly, as best his slurring voice could allow- spoken almost under his breath- as he hooked his hands gently under Alexander’s arms, pulling him up in a daze.

“Ayyyeeeee surrre” came the reply, rough and drowsy, as he was slumped up against his wall, eyes still closed. Body limp and malleable. He hummed sleepily.

Stephen just looked at him for a moment, looming over the man in the soft orange lamplight. An etching in a horror story of a towering shadow over a peaceful sleeper. Trying to get his brain to work and assess the best ways to go about this. His mind was slow and sludgy, and it almost felt against his Hippocratic oath to use doctorly language in this state.

Safe to say, both of them looked a little worse for wear. Like two circus clowns who had been dragged through a hedge backwards, and then proceeded to drink a decanter of port between them. This was only half true. And there were no hedges in the Arctic as far as Stanley was aware. He was sure Mr. Goodsir probably had an answer for that.

“You really overdid it didn’t you,” Stanley sighed as he fussed with the man’s clown ruff, gently looping his arms around to the back of his neck to get at the ties there, McDonald leaned forward to allow him access without thinking, “I knew you and my assistant shouldn’t have had that drinking competition.” He tried to sound annoyed, but his voice was soft and quiet.

“Naww am fiiiine, oh but he is bonny though isn’t he?” McDonald laughed shyly at this, a heady thing, and Stephen felt something warm twist in his gut.

He tried not to address how he felt about men he worked so closely with, but drink had loosened his mind somewhat. Perhaps Goodsir _was_ quite a sight. All dark curls and eyelashes and narrow body. Something ethereal about him. He restrained that thought with the grappling hands of whatever was left of his consciousness. _Thoughts like those make for shoddy work Stephen and you know it._

Alexander was now looking up at him softly as he still struggled with the ties on his ruff. The idiot had double-knotted them. He felt his face burning under the gaze. Those kind eyes that he found himself drawn into whenever possible, like they were pools of sticky honey and he was a wasp. Something so sweet tempting something so dangerous, making the wasp dizzy and stupid with it’s lure. Their breaths mingled.

“He did win though, I’ll give him that. Charming lad that he is.” McDonald smiled dreamily as though remembering.

His eyes flickered to Stephen’s mouth, paused, and then slowly back up to his sharp blue eyes. In this lighting, and with the drink, they looked more black than blue.

“You tied this twice, didn’t you?”

“Aye.”

“Ridiculous man.” He huffed, brows scowling as he struggled, looking off to the far wall with concentration. The fastening felt tiny and smug under his heavy fingers. Being a surgeon, he should be good at tactile trickiness, and it mocked him.

“You don make a very happy clown, Dr. Stanley…” McDonald idly picked at Stephen’s own ruff with a heavy hand.

“I’m Pierott.” He cleared his throat in an official manner, “who is stern and melancholic, of course.”

“Oh o’course” McDonald nodded his head and hardened his face grimly as though really learning something, breaking into a sly smile that Stanley could feel on his cheek, “...Aye well that fits then, nev’mind.”

Stanley shot him what he hoped was a withering look, but the scot just absorbed it. He gave up with the strings of his ruff entirely.

“It’s not coming off.” He leant up again, away from the warmth, stumbling slightly, “How very fitting, you shall remain a clown.”

“At least am a _happy_ clown, ey?”

“You’re a very _drunk_ clown.”

Alexander laughed heartily at this, suddenly seeming more awake than he had any right to be, suddenly bought back to life. An expression emerged on his face as though he had just remembered a delicious secret, eyes big and excited. Stanley watched it with dawning horror.

“No drunk _Enough!_ ” he exclaimed, slurring.

“Ah, Ah, where are you going- _stop_! Sit down! _Alexander_!”

But McDonald was already slinking off the berth unsteadily, making past Stanley the best he could before he was caught by the waist in one of Stephens strong arms, wrestling with him in the crook of his elbow. Alexander pushed a hand on his chest in an attempt to escape but he was betrayed and gentled from his laughter.

“No, no! ‘ave a decanter in here I _know_ I do! Lemme go Stephen!”

“I’m supposed to be putting you to bed, not getting you in a worse state!” he heaved the man with great restraint to not be too rough, McDonald was only slightly shorter than him but less of his bulk, and he stumbled back. Falling to a sit on his berth with a resounding ‘ _oof_ ’.

There was a moment of stunned silence where McDonald struggled to figure out why he was now sat down, only having been stood up moments ago.

Stanley watched with great amusement as the cogs in his brain turned.

Ultimately, he came to the realisation very fast and that look of stupor dissolved into heat, flickering his gaze up to Stephen. An esurient smile spreading on that handsomely drunken face.

Stanley knew that look all too well. He felt his stomach turn over hotly. He could have bet money that things would come to this. Things often ended this way whenever they were both alone in a room together.

“Strong clown, ey?”

“Stronger than most.”

McDonald leisurely cast his eyes over Stanley’s form then, as though only just aware of the man standing in his room, and Stanley tried to ignore the way his skin prickled feverishly. The air in the room changing, waiting for something.

“Well, you’re gonnae hav’te try more than tha to stop me, sorry.”

And with this he lurched off the berth again, unstable yes, but determined enough. Stanley immediately felt his blood pressure rise, his jaw flickered with tension. He caught the man again with both arms around his middle, squeezing a delirious yelp from him.

“I said: sit down” voice low and surly, and he heaved him again, stronger than before and stumbling a little with him from the force. The drink dizzying his head didn’t help either of course.

McDonald crashed down into his berth, flat on his back this time, laying there stunned. A slow smile creeping onto his face like an absolute fool for a few seconds before he burst into amazed laughter. Laughter from the very bottom of his belly. Stanley watched him with a guarded fondness; his shadow cast over the cackling clown.

“Jesus, Stephen!” he croaked, propping himself up on his elbows, “You might’ave hurt me there!” but he sounded delighted by it.

“Oh, indeed. A tragedy for the ages.”

“I’d bloody well say so!” He broke his laughter with a perfected mock surprise up at Stanley, his face practically glowing with excitement and drink “You brute!”

“Well, that should teach you then. I made a promise to the Lieutenants, Doctor.”

“Aye, not to get me in worse state, was it?” he raised his eyebrows and sat up, swaying, “Yet you volley me across the room!”

“I didn’t _volley_ yo-”

“I’ve been _volleyed_ across the room!”

“I did _no such thing_!”

“I hurt _all over_!”

“I very much doubt tha-”

“ _OH, poor sweet little me!”_

“You are _Insufferable_!”

“Is that why you _threw me_ , Doctor??”

“I did NOT _throw_ you!”

“Oh, what WILL the Lieutenants say?? When little old me cannae walk tomorrow!”

“Oh, don’t even _tempt_ me Alexander. And you’re not little.”

“I think you broke my legs!”

“I’m about to.”

“A _threat! Oh! Poor little old m-”_

But his incessant drunken stream of drivel was cut short by Dr. Stanley’s mouth, hungrily and heavily crashing onto his. Uncoordinated and with much more teeth than there should have been, passionate and bruising. Stanley loomed over him, heavy hands grasping roughly to push and hold McDonald’s shoulders down on the berth. Pressing his bulk on top of him with a strong, drunken heat. The air pushed out of McDonald into a soft moan which he swallowed greedily.

_That shut him up._

In truth he had wanted to do this ever since the Carnivale. Ever since watching this idiot goad Goodsir into a drinking game and then absolutely lose. Watching his ever-smiling face grow hotter and his voice grow hoarser and more unintelligibly Scottish with every drink. Watching how he threw his head back and laughed whenever Goodsir made a sweet little joke, or how his eyes would momentarily meet his own across the room with such a glint in them it left him incapacitated.

Stanley thought himself usually able to guard and control his emotions very well indeed. He prided himself on being a reserved man, a quiet and practical man. But they had done this before, in moments like this, and he knew that they would end up doing it again.

The dog always wants a bone. It has an itch to scratch.

This man seemed to have a specialised skill at getting under his skin in all the perfect ways. Pushing all his buttons exactly how he liked it. In ways even his own wife couldn’t manage. He dismissed that thought as nonchalantly as it had occurred.

“Christ alive…” McDonald rasped under him as they pulled away. He tongued his own lip where it had burst and bled from the impact of teeth, “You could’ve warned me, ey?” his tongue disappeared with the taste of his own blood on it, “Brute.”

Yet he smiled catlike up at Stanley, his arms flung around his neck, draped across his strong back, and thighs holding his waist in place on top of him.

Clearly, he had no complaints.

“It’s part of my charm, remember?” he purred, eyes dancing in the orange light as he gazed down upon McDonald and his bruising lips.

“I know sweetheart, but softer now, ey?” he dragged his blunt nails soothingly between his shoulder blades as he spoke and Stanley felt his skin crawl delightfully up and down his spine, “Don’t wannae damage me, ‘member?”

McDonald gently reunited their lips to his own liking, slow and gorgeous. Stanley docile and receptive above him. The wasp sent stupid with the honey.

He let his hands gently wander over Alexander, feeling him rise against his touch and sigh under him. His hands felt so at home on this man’s body. Familiar and wanted. He could taste the blood from McDonald’s mouth as he slipped his tongue into him.

Deep heat spiked and twisted in his chest, pulsing through him like white lightning until he had hoisted McDonald’s legs firmly around him and pushed himself fully on the berth with a throaty growl.

Both men were taller than most, something which had certainly made them stand out in the operating theatres. So, it was humorous to see how they folded up into the small sleeping space. All limbs and undignified grunting. They broke their kiss to try and rearrange themselves, McDonald was laughing as Stanley caught his elbow against the wall with a curse.

Alexander folded his knees up to his chest so Stephen could position himself, less than agile, over his frame. Big hands grabbing impatiently at McDonald’s legs again to resume their previous place around his waist. He huffed and that only made the other man laugh harder.

He looked like the angriest clown in the world. You wouldn’t book this clown for any children’s birthdays.

“New act, ey?” McDonald was cackling, propping up on his elbows to look at the sorry state of them both, “How many clowns can fit in a bed.”

“Hopefully only two.” He grumbled flatly, leaning down again over Alexander, pressing onto him, hands on either side of his head.

“I wouldn’t be so hasty” he sighed under the weight and raised an eyebrow with that coy smile. Stephen knew exactly what he was referring to.

He felt his face heat suddenly. His jaw clenched.

“I assure you, there’s no room in this bed for a third clown.” He drew his face dangerously close to McDonald, smelling of wine, “maybe if you win him at that little drinking game next time. Like a little prize.”

“Mm, you are _cruel_ Stephen.” McDonald looked nonplussed, serene with drink and smiling soothingly, his eyes flickering over the details of Stephen’s face. Hands massaging the tension in his shoulders idly in a way that made Stanley want to soften and purr. He caught himself in time.

“I’m aware.”

“Oh, but he is bonny though, Stephen.” He sighed airily, a quirk of a smile at his mouth, and deliberately met eyes with him hotly. Mischief sparkling there.

“You are a tart.”

“ _I’m aware_ ” he purred, digging in his nails, “Now kiss me again, sweetheart.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He captured his mouth with a slow pleased growl and devoured him hungrily. Grabbed at his ruff and tugged him with a force that made McDonald gasp and laugh drunkenly into his mouth.

“Useful at last.” He murmured onto his lips and felt the man smile blissfully and wind his arms back around his neck firmly, deepening their kiss with a ferocity that sent heat straight through Stanley. To the dull thud of his prick where it pressed obviously into Alexander’s thigh.

He could feel Alexander’s against him likewise.

Stephen could never bury his shameful hunger and desperation whenever they collided like this. McDonald always read him perfectly, loud and clear. Like he was a familiar book, easily turning his pages with his fingers. Always perfect, always comfortable. Sometimes there was scrabbling for purchase, his hand closed over Alexander’s mouth, claw marks on Stephen’s back in the morning. Other times it was in the dark, slow, and aching, and tender, a bite mark on Alexander’s shoulder the next day.

Stephen could never predict it, didn’t know its scientific formula. There were no textbooks he could study, no philosophers seemed to hold any answers. He simply held on for dear life and was swept along. Too good to question it. He let it take over him.

And if this time, it called for two drunk clowns rutting against each other on a tiny bed, then so be it. He supplied.

Alexander was too beautiful and warm to resist and the sound of him moaning beneath him seemed to worm under his skin, to alight him. His chest and neck flushed, his heart hammered, his very teeth buzzing with the want for this man. He vaguely wondered if he would lose his mind one of these days because of this yearning, this temptation so great it left him frantic. Undid him.

He would say that, _yes, I took very good care of Dr. McDonald indeed_ and then he would go back to _Erebus_ and he would think, _well, that’s that_. That would be the end of it. But deep in his mind he knew with a voraciousness that it would be just another game of counting the days until it happened again. His body starving and shaking until his next fix.

“ _Oh_ ” Alexander squirmed underneath his pressing hips, “ _Oh darling”_ he was bought back to himself with a shock of heat and he growled in approval, “take your greatcoat off first, aye?” a laugh caught in his throat with another moan, and he cracked his glinting eyes open to look up at Stephen with a smile.

Stephen stopped, leaving McDonald panting. He had wondered why he was feeling hotter than usual and as he shucked off his coat, without any grace, he felt a laugh swell up in his chest. Suddenly, everything about their situation clarifying. The clown costumes, the make-up, them squashed onto a tiny bed like a humanoid spider, him so desperate that he didn’t even remove his coat before rutting like an animal in heat.

He flung the coat as though it had insulted him, looking back to Alexander with a smile faltering his lips. It was then that Alexander’s face broke open delightfully into a gleeful chuckle and Stanley felt himself laugh with him. Taken over with his laughter, a purifying sound.

“You idiot” McDonald grasped at his ruff and pulled him over onto him, making his laughter cut into a choked moan and he flushed with the sound. McDonald purred at it.

“Says the clown” He breathed.

“You’re a clown too, y’know.”

“I know.”

“Mm you’re a clown wi a hard on pressing intae my leg, sweetheart.”

“I know.” He felt his face grow hotter, spreading down his chest and into his cock, making him flutter his jaw with the ferocious hunger it encouraged.

“Aye, well aren’t you _Mr. Know-it-all_ , ey?”

“I like to think so.” He moved to breathe hotly onto McDonald’s ear, purring dangerously low and silken, “And I know you’re hard too, Doctor.” He felt the man shudder.

“Way-hey and up she rises, right?” Alexander cackled then, throwing his head back beautifully with it.

“You are an awful man.”

And he kissed his throat, dragging his teeth along the stubbled skin and evoking a gorgeous low moan from the man below him. He felt McDonald rise his hips into him and he hummed hoarsely as their cocks found each other where they strained and leaked against their trouser fronts.

“ _Oh_ darling” Alexander swallowed thickly, pulling on Stanley’s ruff with reckless abandon and making him choke again where his mouth was open on his jawline, “Oh I wish…mm’wish there weren’t so...many…fucking… _layers!”_

Stanley chuckled darkly against him, a sound like treacle drooling from a spoon. His tongue found a gap underneath Alexander’s ruff idly as the man squirmed. He tasted the salt of his sweat.

“Now, why on earth would you want that, Alexander?” his voice still a syrupy purr in his throat, he held the ruff between his teeth for a moment, enjoying the pull of the man’s weight on his jaw as he continued to writhe and rock his hips.

“Don be cute wi me Stephen, it’s no you.” He gasped, tightening his hands on Stephen’s ruff and bringing the man’s face in line with his own with a rough pull that sent a hot shock through Stanley’s prick greedily. He felt it pulse and twitch.

Both men locked eyes then and there was no getting out of it now. Mesmerists everywhere would be astounded, and then resign, at the power these two appeared to have over one another without any training or substances. Unless of course you counted port and lust as a substance. Alexander’s eyes were heavy lidded and nearly black with desire, his brows drawn up and perspiration stuck his hair to his forehead in a vaguely gracefully debauched sort of way. The red nose still survived.

Stanley kept his gaze and continued to rock his hips down onto the man, he felt his eyelashes flutter and his brow crease with the sweet soothe of contact on his cock as he did so, shamefully sticky inside his trousers.

“Stephen _oh_ ” Alexander tried, his eyes nearly shut but not quite, the sound of his name in such a desperate strain in his throat made Stanley shiver, “ _Oh_ at…at least unbutton me…aye?” he was panting openly and matching Stephen’s thrusts with practiced ease.

“And let you make a big mess all over me when I make you finish?” He chuckled darkly and brushed his lips ghost-like across McDonald’s, “Not this time” his voice a velvet whisper.

No, this time would have to be chaste and point blank. That itch needed scratching and the two of them were drunk, reduced to beasts seeking sensation.

Alexander looked like he was going to retort but Stephen cut him off pressing harder down in bruising strokes and he watched as the man’s head fell back with a silent cry, unable to keep up, wrapping his long legs around Stephen tighter.

“ _Christ!”_ his head snapped back up to knock against Stanley’s. His face was a picture in a pornographic painting. His cheeks matched the red of his nose. His eyes glossy and glittering under heavy eyelids, unfocussed, “ _Stephen!_ Oh, you’re gonnae… _OH_ …you cannae make me finish like this, surely?” his voice was soft and wavering, a man on the brink of collapse.

Their cocks burned against each other, such a fierce heat of friction alighting between their loins it was almost unbearable, almost numbing but with far too much sensation. Ticklish but full-bodied.

“You want me to stop?” he breathed, smooth and quiet, his mouth pressing onto Alexander’s but not kissing him. Just breathing him in.

“Don you _dare -AH_ ” A guttural laugh escaped Alexander which consumed most of his air dryly, exploding into a gasp and pretty moan to put whorehouses to shame as he began to match his hips to Stanley’s again.

Admittedly this compelled Stephen to groan low in this throat, the perfect synchronised slip and slide of each other’s bodies, of their trapped cocks. Knowing that they were unburdening each other as simple as this, with such bestial and depraved rutting. The coarseness of it made it twice as delicious and Stephen felt heat begin to pool heavily in his gut, the sweet burn of his muscles as he kept a punishing pace. Pushing air from his nose hotly like a bull.

“ _Oh_ you like this honey? You feel good, _aye_?”

He was a wasp trapped in syrup again, drawn in shamefully by the coaxing and sweetened tone of Alexander’s voice that he felt a wave of heat fill his face and he wanted to melt.

He was sure McDonald was barely aware of the words which he said to Stanley in these moments, and the effect they truly had on him. Feeling like a fussed cat. Sending him soft and stupid. He simply gazed down at this man below him, locking eyes with him as they tried to close. As they both panted and sweat with exertion and sensation.

“Aye? Is this good for you? Is it darling? _Oh sweetheart_.” He watched Alexander’s eyes flicker closed and his breath catch enchantingly “ _oh_ its so good, so warm… _Christ._ ”

Stanley realised he was now panting heavier, there was a thick whining sound low in his throat, almost like a dog.

“ _Oh honey_ oh s’okay” Alexander had responded to this sound, eyes fluttering open and a beautiful, rich smile upon his handsome face.

Then he twisted his hands in Stanley’s clown ruff, choking him entirely.

Stephen heard himself moan shamefully, a deep and rich sound. Then all he could hear was the blood pounding in his own head, behind his eyes, in his ears, the base of his skull. Looking down at McDonald he saw white spots bloom, thudding with red. His face was blurring out, darkening, but he could see an intense look of warmth and concentration there. His body went steadily numb, nothing but a thumping in his head and in his cock simultaneously. His mouth was open, perhaps he was moaning wantonly. He felt his hips still moving, almost involuntarily, but his arms and legs felt fuzzy and detached. Sludgy, heavy. His body felt far away, apart from his cock. Lungs burning. Face too hot. Eyes burning.

McDonald was offering sweet words to him, but he couldn’t hear him. Just the smooth salve of his dulcet tones, just _noise_. Just rushing blood. Watching his mouth move behind the bright lights in his vision. He knew it would be _sweethearts_ and _darlings_ and _honeys_. And _oh god_ it was driving him crazy. His vision was getting darker and darker and the pressure in his cock was getting harder and harder, sweeter, and sweeter until both his head and prick felt swollen and heavy. Until his body froze entirely. Winding up so tight inside. The white spots in his eyes fading to black. Was he still moving? He felt like he would explode. Nothing but the _Thud thud thud_ of his own blood _._ He could feel the veins in his forehead and in his prick pounding. The world fading out.

 _Bang!_ He could breathe again. The room rushed back to meet him. Blood rushed giddily back to his head. He found himself issuing short, low panicked moans, he felt his hips stuttering on top of Alexander and his orgasm crashed over him. He felt his eyes roll back, dizzy and light and barely breathing, he convulsed, and his cock leapt inside his trousers spilling his seed shamefully. He screwed his eyes shut and a strangled noise left the back of his throat involuntarily as it worked through him. Completely undone. All his buttons well and truly pressed.

“ _Shhh there you go sweetheart, aye, there you g-OH! O H!!”_

Somewhere below him Alexander’s voice sounded wrecked and breathless, reaching him in the drowning depths of his pleasure. Abruptly hands grasped his shoulders, pulling him down roughly and he felt Alexander shudder and contract in on himself, moaning in sweet bewilderment into Stephen’s neck. All hot breath and teeth. Grasping at him, almost frenzied. His legs like a vice grip on his waist as he spilled himself into his own clothes with a stuttering gasp.

Both men rode their blissful agony off each other at the same time. Rocking and spasming into one another, grappling at each other for support, for warmth, for purchase as they lost themselves. Nothing but heat and sensation shooting through them both, nothing but the intermittent starting and stopping of their breathing as their convulsions left them breathless. The strangled moans that could have been any of them, or both of them at the same time.

And then it was over. And they were breathless and shaking against each other. Dazed. Mouths sticky like they had been full of cotton, tongues heavy, heads spinning. But they held each other tightly, despite how they trembled. And how twisted they were on the stupidly small berth.

And then they began to laugh. Slow at first, croaky and heavy. Gradually winding up to a full bellied sound which spread over them like hot caramel. Life outside momentarily forgotten; expectations of sensibility disregarded. It was hard to feel rational with a wet patch in your trousers and a giggling scot underneath you.

Stanley’s throat rattled from the abrasions and he distantly thanked men’s fashion for high collars. Yet another bruise to admire tomorrow morning. To remind him of this man. Just as these bruises would heal, he would be hungry for new ones.

“Aye well…you certainly fixed me up, ey Doctor?” McDonald rasped, cackling weakly.

“I told them I would, Doctor.”

**Author's Note:**

> These two clowns can be silly and Know Each Other...as a treat.
> 
> If you liked this pls leave a kudos and comment! I'd super appreciate it since this was a diff genre for me (happy lmao) so it would mean a lot if I managed it!
> 
> You can find me on twitter @tapeworrrm and tumblr @tapeworrm :)


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